Der Fleischmann
by TheBuggiest
Summary: After successfully restoring Engineer to a reconstructed body, Medic finds himself in possession of a cloned brain of considerable intelligence. And oh, the things he could do with it... so long as he can keep it a secret from his team. But will this project yield an unrivaled force on the battlefield, or something far more sinister? Takes place after "0031-log".
1. Chapter 1

4-12-73

This is the day I have been waiting for. The Machinenmensch and the Engineer are moving out of my surgery to the workshop, and I will be able to finally work on this greatest of my endeavors without fear of discovery or interruption.

Within these pages, I will record the creation and training of Der Fleischmann. I have been given a gift from the gods- well actually from Miss Pauling, but that doesn't sound nearly as exciting. It was a confusing situation, but somehow she saw the clone brain I had retrieved right before I was shot down outside of Gray's tank all those months ago, and she brought it back to me. Clever girl; she thought it better that I have it than it should be retaken by Gray, and I will not allow the risk she took to go to waste. She seemed quite adamant that I not tell her what I was planning to do with it, which is probably for the best. It will be much more satisfying when I unveil it to her along with all the others once the project reaches its completion.

This brain is the best thing I could have asked for aside from a copy of my own, as it is an exact clone of our Engineer's. He is, regrettably, not too interested in pursuing his full potential unless it involves being paid or someone challenging his abilities, but only a fool would deny that he's intelligent. It is a shame that he would probably object to me harnessing that ability in this new being. He might have proven a useful ally in its realization and construction. His metal friend, on the other hand... he may be more easily swayed. I will think about whether or not the Machinenmensch can be recruited to help as I delve further into Der Fleischmann's creation.

Ah, but I am rambling, and this is supposed to be at least useable as a scientific journal. Suffice it to say that this project's aims are to construct an artificial being made not out of scrap metal and electronic components like Gray's robots but of naturally occuring organic materials: flesh, blood, and hair just as I myself am made. Where I shall find these materials... that is going to be a trickier matter. I do not wish to harvest from my teammates unless necessary, as this is supposed to be a surprise. Besides they will probably complain and be very annoying about it, and there's only so much of that sort of behavior I can put up with at a time.

All the same, the Medigun's ability to speed along cellular replication even on samples disconnected from a living body is very promising. I can perhaps construct quite a bit of the body from my own tissue, supplement that in parts from my team's best attributes (taken during check-ups to avoid too much suspicion), then add in organs of the finest specimens this nation's zoos have to offer. All there is to do after that is splicing them into a whole, running a few tests to make sure Der Fleischmann can sustain itself, training it, and keeping it hidden until I am ready to unveil the finished product to my compatriots in arms. Once they see what I have accomplished, I'm sure there will be no hard feelings about the deception. Hopefully.

Either way, nothing ventured, nothing gained! This will be worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

4-16-73

The sensations associated with a new project... they are intoxicating. The blank slate of a clear gurney, its brushed steel glinting blue in the medigun's glow. The warmth of new blood seeping into my hands like the radiance of the sun. The muted shuffling of the pigeons as they creep closer to see a master at work. It is almost as good as the finale, when every last cut and stitch has been made and the fruit of my labor is finally at hand. But for now, I will enjoy the simple things.

I began by taking various tissue samples from myself: dermis and skeletal muscle from various places, a bit of bone from several sites on my skull, blood, et cetera. More details can be found in the charts and sketches associated with this journal. The main point at which I am driving is how I have avoided a problem associated with constructing a new body; that is, in growing a new head I may grow yet another fully functioning brain. To this end I am going to make the head in pieces, and growth will be driven by applying short bursts of the medibeam instead of a continuous flow. If it seems that more of any one piece is developing than I want, I will move on to growing another piece of the cranial puzzle. This way, if I feel it is necessary to make a second brain after my own image, I can do it at my liesure instead of having to shuffle brains and heads over and over again in a continuous chain.

Growing the tissues has been a bit of a hassle thus far due to Engineer and the Machinenmensch not leaving me alone. Stephen has apparently gotten it into his head that I actually want to be involved in his patient's rehabilitation. I think he is concerned that I will feel he is encroaching on my job, which is ridiculous as I have made it quite clear that Engineer's psychological welfare is something I'm not altogether interested in.

They came in at about ten this morning, which meant I had to quickly hide the brain's canister in the cabinet. I was annoyed at the interruption, of course, but I could not hold onto that for very long. Seeing the body I constructed functioning so well for its new inhabitant pleases me still even after these months. And yet Engineer is not quite back to his old self yet. He holds himself stiffly, his gait is slower, he is still a bit lean in the face. Stephen stayed very close to him as they entered as though afraid the other might need his physical support. He was fidgeting as he always does when he is anxious about something, which means almost constantly.

I greeted them rather warmly considering the circumstances. Stephen bobbed his head, and Engineer offered me a tired smile.

"We aren't interrupting nothing, are we?" he asked.

"Of course not," I replied, then added, "Is there anything I can help either of you with?"

I regretted this almost instantly, because Stephen surged forward. "Yes, well, actually. Er. I am not sure it is all THAT important, if I am being honest, but Herr Engineer had a concern so-"

"I need to talk with you about something, is all," Engineer cut in mercifully. "It shouldn't take very long."

That piqued my curiosity. "And that is...? Would you like to go to my office to sit down, or would you prefer to talk here?"

"Nah, like I said it won't take long." He paused and looked up at the light fixture to gather his thoughts.

"...You know when I installed the Gunslinger a while back, before I left? And everyone thought I'd gone off my nut? There were a couple reasons why I did that."

"Yes?" I did my very best imitation of patience.

"Well for one, it was a weapon I could have ready in a hurry since it was always close by. But the other reason..."

He stopped to look down at his hands. He had both of them now, regrown just like the rest of his body. A marked improvement, I think. "It wasn't all that hard to get rid of my hand, see. It kinda... felt... wrong. Like it weren't mine, most of the time. It was like it'd already been chopped off, and just kept doing its thing at the end of my arm. I felt it was less mine than the one I built. I, uh, haven't told anybody about that yet except Steve."

I smiled, and I'm sure it was strained. "You dissociated your limb, that's very interesting. Now what is your point, Engineer? You didn't need my help amputating your hand the first time; surely that's not what you're here to ask me about."

His head snapped up to look at me, and he was frowning beneath his goggles. "My point is that now I feel like that all over, and I'm wondering if you and Steve messed something up when you put me in here."

It took me a moment to process what he said. Messed something up? Did he really have THAT little faith in my abilities?

"I-I told him that this was most likely not a physical issue," Stephen stammered. "He has been through a good deal of psychological and physical stress recently, and given what that entailed, some amount of-"

"Engineer, your body is functioning beautifully." There was a low quaver in my voice as I struggled to keep my displeasure in check. "We have run tests. All of your senses are fine, and your motor skills are almost completely restored. You have been able to eat and drink and sleep like any other human being. What about this body that we constructed specifically for you does not live up to your standards?"

His expression did not change. "The fact that I feel I stole it from somebody else, that's all."

Stephen put a hand on his shoulder. "Ah, if it would be reassuring, we could perhaps take some x-rays just to make sure that everything is all right. I sincerely doubt there is anything to be done surgically; Herr Medic has done a very good job on this body, but it is unlikely to be a problem to check. Ja?"

"Ja, of course not." I did not mean that, and it was probably very obvious, but I didn't care. "Why don't you come back tomorrow, and Stephen and I will look you over thoroughly to make sure we wired everything correctly?"

"That sounds all right." Engineer sighed and shifted his weight. "Hell Doc, I didn't mean to sound all confrontational about it. It's just been weird. I knew I wasn't gonna feel exactly the same as before Gray, but I didn't expect for me to take longer to get used to my old body than it took for me to get used to that tin can."

"Herr Engineer, you were not a tin can," Stephen said, perhaps a little offended. Personally I was done with the conversation. I clasped my hands behind my back.

"All right, it's settled, you will come back tomorrow. Now if you please, I do have some plans I was hoping to get to this afternoon, and I have not prepared yet."

I smiled and gave them a very pointed look. Engineer shook his head slightly and turned out of the room, Stephen following in his wake.

"Thanks anyways," he told me over his shoulder before closing the door. Ugh. The things I have to put up with some days.

Perhaps I should rethink using this logbook as a scientific record. It's turning out to be more of a personal narrative than anything; oh well. I'll record this project however I wish to do so.


End file.
